Prelude to a Coup
by The Redjay
Summary: Title: Prelude to a Coup  Fandom: Tron: Legacy  Word Count: 1,679  Characters: Flynn, Clu, Tron  Warnings: Spoilers for anyone who hasn't seen Tron - Legacy, and language  Synopsis: Clu didn't understand what Flynn meant by 'murder'. They weren't perfect.


"Why?"

"Because this isn't what I wanted the Grid to be."

"Why?"

"Because this _isn't_ the way to do it!"

"_Why_?"

"Because, Clu, you have to understand!"

Kevin Flynn paced the portal, his gaze drifting occasionally to the ever-patient Tron in the corner and then back to where Clu stood in the middle of the 'room'. The bodies – if you could call the shards that littered the Grid _bodies _– surrounded them like a ton of bricks, worse, in Flynn's eyes. When he'd seen what Clu had done to the group of Isos, his stomach had turned. They were _real_, in a sense. They were going to change the world and surely some things – no, people – that important couldn't be more than just code. It was the first thing he'd seen that day, when he stepped out of his original world and into the Grid which he had increasingly begun to call home with a spring in his step, and plans in motion to show Sam the Grid within a matter of weeks. He wanted it perfect first; he didn't want to let his son down, show him something half done after all the stories that he had told him. But he hadn't wanted it to happen like _this_. He averted his gaze – as Tron wrinkled his nose, monitoring Flynn and noticing his distress – but Clu refused to look away from the shards, his creator, and everything. There wasn't a shred of remorse in his eyes and Flynn wasn't sure whether to hit him or cradle him.

"This isn't what I wanted-" He gestured erratically with one hand, then looked away again, trying to meet his double's eyes instead of the many glazed or half-lidded pairs on the neon floor. "I never wanted this!"

"They're just Isos." Clu snorted, folding his arms over the glowing orange lines that segmented his suit. He raised an eyebrow – a mirror image of Flynn's little habits – and then another, daring Flynn to argue.

"They were _perfect_."

"Hardly!"

"Well then they were _going _to be perfect." Flynn took a deep breath, running his hand through his hair and trying to talk sense into his creation. His pride and joy. "They could have made the Grid even better." He sighed, reaching to squeeze Clu's shoulder. The other man – Flynn always saw him as so real – pulled away with a scowl. Closing his eyes for a second, Flynn raised his hands more imploringly, thinking. "Look, just... Don't do it again. Alright? There's still more." He winced at his word choice, worrying about how easily he had brushed aside a form of _murder_... Committed by a part of himself. "We'll still be able to make it perfect, show them to the world."

"So you say, my old friend." Clu, as always, mimicked Flynn when he wanted to get through to him. The look in his eyes was so innocent in its malice that Flynn almost wanted to trust his judgement as moral. All Clu wanted was answers, and results. To him, the end always justified the means. Flynn shuddered. "But you promised we'd make it perfect, man!" Those eyes narrowed into anger, and he, in turn, gestured at the shards. "What about them? They weren't perfect."

"I didn't promise _murder_."

"It's not murder, Flynn. It's _derezzing_. Or erasing." Clu pouted and Flynn was reminded so quickly of his young Sam, when he came home too late to say goodnight. He shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot, almost wanting to call out and ask Tron to back him up. But he wouldn't drag another friend into this conflict and another program would do no good at all. Instead, Flynn took a step closer to Clu as Clu took a more threatening one of his own, until the two men were almost touching. Clu jerked his chin defiantly, one hand raised as though to accentuate his idea of logic. "You _promised_ we'd create a perfect world."

"Not this way." Flynn rubbed his temples as Clu glared. "You don't under_stand_, you're just a-"

"Program?"

The word was snapped out, and Flynn winced, stepping back as though he'd been slapped. Clu's glare deepened, his eyes flashing amber in the near dark of the Grid, and Flynn reached out to touch and reassure him again. Clu staggered back this time, throwing off Flynn's tight grip on his shoulder with ease, and batted away a second arm as Flynn tried again. Rubbing his forearm Flynn frowned, but didn't try again; he hadn't realised Clu's strength. It did nothing to quell his rising feeling of foreboding and fear towards a 'man' he would have called his best friend. Grimacing, he reached out but didn't touch Clu, and the other man finally agreed to stand still, his hands balled into fists at his side. Gone was the look of innocence to be replaced with one so calculating Flynn would have liked to call Clu mad.

"Clu, I didn't mean-"

"Didn't mean _what_, Flynn?"

Clu stepped forward, Flynn stepped back, and the tango backed Flynn against a wall of flashing light. Tron's discs were in his hands within seconds, but Flynn waved his hand, silently begging Tron to back down and let him deal with it. Muttering about defending the users Tron retreated, but the circular weapons continued to shimmer in his grip. Flynn turned his gaze to where Clu pinned him to the wall with one hand on his chest, another twitching as though he too wanted to take out his disc. A pacifist, Flynn left his alone and waited until Clu was done scowling venomously at Tron before trying to argue again. He didn't know what to say.

"Dude... I didn't mean it like _that_!" Flynn shook his head, also scowling. "I just meant that... I don't know!" He snorted. "You're behaving like a _child_!"

"So what if I am?" Clu snorted back. "Just how _did_ you mean it?" He let go of Flynn's chest – leaving his creator to breath just a little too heavily and used his fingers to count off his suggestions. "_Just_ a program? Just a _machine_? Just _binary_? Nothing _important_!"

Flynn spluttered. "I-"

"I'm _you _Flynn." Clu hit home and for a moment, Flynn fell silent. It was impossible to argue with yourself. "You're me. All of this?" Clu leaned forward, rapping two of his knuckles off of the side of Flynn's skull none-too-gently. "All in my coding. And if _I'm _not important," Clu smirked, his fingers finally tap-tap-tapping over the edge of his disc, playing with fire. Clu took the same risk in following Flynn's words to him that Flynn had taken in his dream to create the Grid, and under different circumstances Flynn might have been proud. In a fatherly way – infallible love, and a near blindness to faults (shared or otherwise) – he was. But Clu didn't care nearly as much; or perhaps the problem was that he cared too much. Either way, his words here were cruel, all of the ambition that Flynn had programmed into his double channelled into a neurotic, power-crazy would-be-despot with a Dystopian view of Utopia. Suddenly, Flynn wished he hadn't been so quick to stubbornly push away Tron. Clu picked up on the discomfiting effect he had on Flynn and leaned in to whisper his last words in his creator's eye. "Then neither are you."

Flynn baulked. "I never said-"

"And if I'm not perfect," Clu raised his voice again, lifting both his arms dramatically, "Well then neither are you man! So what use is this? All of this...!" His voice rose to a shout, and Flynn grit his teeth, hopping Clu's behaviour was just a bad mood. He'd never been like this before... It would surely pass. Probably just a jump in the system, a bad line of coding in his programming. Reassuring himself he missed the bulk of Clu's words until the program's tone turned quieter, almost desperate again. "... Just... Let me do my _job_."

Flynn sighed. "This was never your job, Clu." He glanced to the shards that had once been tine Isos, but they had already been recycled into the Grid. Only a few tiny flashes, reflecting the light of the two orange and one blue suit in the 'room', remained of the once fantastic beings. "This isn't what we were supposed to do. Come on." He reached out a hand, and forced a welcoming smile onto his face. "Come with me, I'll explain everything."

"But I'm not finished."

"Clu-"

"No-"

"You have to take a break, Clu." Flynn tried another tack, still smiling, almost ready to offer an embrace. Better that than to let Clu's temper flare up again. "Let me and Tron do the work." He could turn off Clu when he went back through the portal after the night's work, tweak his system and then bring him back to life. It was perfection – that was what Flynn used to justify _his _derezzing – and Clu would surely be grateful. He waved Tron closer but kept his eyes on Clu's cynical, too calm expression. "Let _us _finish."

"Bastard." Clu spat, stepping backwards, almost horrified. His eyes flashed angrily and his fists curled so tight that white blossomed over his knuckles like boxer's dust. Flynn made to turn away, to end the subject, but Clu had more to say. Flynn failed in his attempts to ignore him as he walked towards Tron. "It was supposed to be me and you..." Thinking of Sam, and what it meant to be father and son, Flynn ignored yet another surge of guilt and kept on walking. "It was also supposed to be me and you and shaping the Grid!"

"Clu." Flynn turned once, and his smile was gone. His expression was stern. "_Stop it._"

"If you won't let me do this, Flynn, you'll regret it."

"Are you... Threatening me?"

Flynn blinked, and stared across the vast expanse of space as Clu raised his head up high again and set his jaw firm.

"I'm doing what I have to do, Flynn." He turned his back on his creator. "I'm keeping _my _promise."


End file.
